Monday, 17 October 2016

[BLOG] Castle Xyntillan

Once upon a time (more precisely, ten years ago), I
was invited by Necromancer Games to produce a revised and expanded edition of Judges Guild’s classic Tegel Manor. Despite
producing two draft versions of the manuscript and a whole lot of playtesting,
the project fell through, and my take on the dungeons was never published. However,
that is an old story, already
told elsewhere. The manuscript mostly languished in my archives, although I
occasionally took it out for a ride on tournaments and one-offs, where it ate
up a generous amount of characters, and some of it (my key for the dungeons as
well as two wilderness sites) ended up in Cloister
of the Frog God, a side-adventure published in Frog God Games’ edition of Rappan Athuk. However, the bulk of it was never seen by anyone except a circle of close friends who received a PDF of the first draft (some of them ran full campaigns with it, too),

Castle Xyntillan

However, the project was still on my mind. Tegel
Manor is fascinating not just because of its terse key and ingenious encounter
system, but even more so because of its dense, compact map. The dungeon mainly consists
of rooms that map well to a square grid, but create interesting and complex
spaces due to the way they connect. “Crossword mazes” are usually not very
entertaining to explore in D&D, but Tegel Manor manages to walk the fine line
between a mapping puzzle and a more content-oriented dungeon. It looks
deceptively simple at any specific decision point (there are rarely more than
three or four ways to go), while hiding the more obscure sections behind
twisting corridors and apparent dead ends. While the dungeon’s bulk is one
sprawling level, there are towers and other extensions which further complicate
path-finding – some of the rooms are effectively and very cleverly isolated
from the others via 3d tricks and even non-standard connections (e.g. an extra
layer of rat tunnels).

Castle Xyntillan came from a 2013 attempt to
consciously recreate a “Tegel-style” dungeon map using the ideas summed up in
the previous paragraph, with a late French gothic theme instead of the English manor house of the JG classic. This was a pure mapping exercise, more to see if I
could do something different from my usual mapping style than to follow any deliberate plan. The results replicate some of the
patterns you can find in Tegel:

Misdirection and obscuring elements based more on layout
(2d/3d) than secret doors.

However, there are also notable differences:

The overall footprint of the castle is smaller, and
the courtyards serve to separate the lightly
themed dungeon sections more accurately than you can find in Tegel. (Although Tegel
has similar elements within thecomplex, like the Grand Dining Hall,
the Torture Chamber or the Throne Room, which serve as nexus points you are
likely to cross multiple times).

It is deliberately more 3d, with four larger upper levels
and two towers, all of which follow different layout principles. The “Gothic I”
and “Gothic II” levels are mazy, “Core II” is a more simple hub-and-spokes place,
the NE “Lake Tower” is compact, the “Donjon” has obstacles before progression,
and the “Occult” section combines an accessible exterior with a more obscure
and deadly core.

The dungeons (which were added much later, in 2016,
and are still to be keyed) are one single level, and more traditional.

After some vacillation, I made a first pass attempt
to map the key of my “un-Tegeled” manuscript to the dungeon,
redistributing rooms where they seemed to fit. The result was pretty good,
although during keying, it turned out that most of the empty space got eaten up,
resulting in fewer unkeyed/empty rooms than common dungeon design wisdom suggests.

Megadungeon mapping

This is where Castle
Xyntillan stood from 2013 to 2016, when I finally decided to stop
procrastinating and turn it into a functional, playable funhouse dungeon. The
idea is to combine the whimsical and often startling ideas of the odder
old-school modules (beyond Tegel Manor, I also drew on the mood of one of my
favourites, the eerie and “off-key” orange Palace
of the Silver Princess) with accessible presentation – easy to get into, while
allowing for deeper and more complex environmental interaction than either Tegel or some of the ultra-
minimalist dungeon keys you tend to see around the OSR.

In my mind, some of the most interesting moments
during dungeon exploration come from the moments when the players start to
connect the dots and come up with their own interpretations and ideas to deal
with the environment – sometimes by combining the elements of one room,
and sometimes by drawing connections between rooms to create an even bigger picture.
The Xyntillan dungeons provide plenty of content and ideas for the first
option, while leaving much of the second to the GM and the players.

To achieve these goals, the room descriptions start
from a terse and essential “first glance” base to get the GM’s and players’ bearings
and get the action started, then add more detail and exploration opportunities
through nested bullet points presented in order of importance. For instance…

H13. Parlour. (50’x40’) Colourful glass panes cast shifting lights on the
interior. Comfortable armchairs and
couches have been gutted. The dancing flames of a large copper brazier hiss and
whisper as a skull sizzles within.

1:2 the wraith of a bearded
mountebank studies a glass globe suspended in mid-air, looking at the small
humanoid figures dancing within. If he stops his concentration, the globe falls
and its prisoners escape in all directions.

The armchairs and footstools
are an inviting place to relax; save or fall into dreamlike state, where a short
doze of 3 turns restores 1d6 Hp, and may cure ailments 1:6. 1:6 of waking up
next to slumbering family member.

H14. Rattling Room. (40’x40’) Long row of skulls is placed on the fireplace and
on ledges around it. Several bones
are scattered on the parquette, or are caught on an intricate crystal
chandelier (800 gp if transported, but bulky and fragile). Stray purple bubbles, size varying from plum
to watermelon, float gently in the air.

1:6 of Guillemette Malévol the
Enchanted (#42), drifting among the bubbles in somnolent reverie. If
present, also check 5:6 for 1d6 glitterclouds.

The bones animate and rattle,
assembling into fantastic configurations and scattering apart. They will
coalesce into what is expected of them – a terrible monstrosity if they are
attacked, a sinister oracle if spoken to, a treacherous guide if asked for
directions... sinking back on floor in disappointment if ignored.

The bubbles reflect spells
cast on them, and 1:6 one is caught
in trajectory by accident if targeting others.

H15. Round Gallery. (50’x20’) Four portraits hang in the low arched passage, blackened by some kind of
mouldy decay. A heavily corroded suit of full plate stands in the corner. 1:6 of the rolling boulder from H25. coming down the hall.

Merton Malévol the
Encyclopedian (#4): asks “Have you seen
my book? It must be here somewhere...”

Reynard
Malévol the Relapse (#19): offers to cast bless
on company... for a little service.

The armour falls apart on a mere touch with a loud clang, releasing its
mace and metal shield. More careful investigation reveals someone has stuffed
heavy bags of gold inside the breastplate (6*100 gp).

==================SAMPLE KEY==================

Just like Tegel Manor and Castle Amber (which I always took for the first Tegel homage module),
Castle Xyntillan is centred around an eccentric and sinister noble family. The
Malévols, a bunch of disreputable degenerates, schemers and outright evildoers,
are the masters of a backwater province located somewhere in the French Alps (or
anywhere else the GM wants to place it), and some of them still haunt their old
family nest... whether alive or dead. Like with the room descriptions, the Malévols
offer more than combatant encounters or window dressing (although they fare
well as such): they are a treacherous and unpredictable lot, a rich source of
information, temporary aliances, double-dealings and missions. For instance...

42. Guillemette Malévol the Enchanted (H14). Barefoot and wearing only a flower wreath and a white nightcloth, her
ghost drifts through Xyntillan, listening to the tune of music only she can
hear. No reaction if encountered or attacked, but 5:6 of 1d6 glitterclouds
trailing behind and attacking anyone who would harm her.

43. Uncle Montfort Malévol the Bygone (I1). Kelps and algae cling to the green,
water-soaked corpse of this rotting old sack of evil, stalking through
Xyntillan in oversized wooden shoes and an outmoded tailcoat. 1:3 offers
first character a handful of candy (save vs. severe hallucinations, but see
secret things not normally found in room key), 1:3 offers live fish kept
in his pocket in exchange for other item, 1:3 attempting to grope most
handsome character. Those who don’t humour Uncle Montfort for his senile
cackling and unpleasant eccentricities will quickly find him a resentful,
vicious old coot.

Castle Xyntillan is rounded out by a small town
section, and perhaps a wilderness (although we haven’t yet explored it during
play, and it will probably be relatively limited), a dungeon level (mapped but not
yet keyed), and a few extras.

We are currently playtesting the castle with a
regular group and at the occasional one-off session – it will also make an
appearance at The Adventurers’ Society,
a Budapest-based mini-convention next Spring. So far, 12 player characters and 19
followers have set out from the mountain town of Tours-en-Savoy to brave the
gates of Xyntillan (and there are multiple gates!), of whom 3 player characters
and 15 followers never returned to tell the tale. Right now, the main group is in
a bit of a bind, since rumours of the heavy turnover are making even the most
adventurous travellers reluctant to join their company... and soon, rival
adventurer groups may turn up to make their lives even more interesting.

Our campaign uses Kazamaták és Kompániák (Dungeons
and Companies), a light Hungarian old-school system perhaps closest in complexity to Swords&Wizardry. Beyond its simple
rules, K&K has some desirable qualities which make it a natural choice for
our game: it has a very interesting system for tracking NPC morale and making
retainers an integral part of the gameplay, and it takes full advantage of game
procedures like surprise and reaction rolls (an essential part of
megadungeoneering). These elements will be presented in a short recap of our “table
rules”.

I have plans to publish Castle Xyntillan as a standalone supplement when it is ready – fully
written, thoroughly tested with multiple groups, and decently polished. It will
either be a self-published version that’s going to be a bit rough around the
edges (i.e. it will feature my maps and artwork), or something released through
an existing publisher – this will be a question after writing’s done. Since I
am also working on the English edition of Helvéczia,
my picaresque fantasy RPG (on which I will post later), it may take some time –
but we will get there, eventually. It has been a long ten years, but sooner or
later, even a golden baby may fly.

These kinds of things, and there must be lots of them in a large dungeon, can be fascinating if there is some artistic sense of integration of the bits into a whole. If the bits are all unrelated as if generated via random tables then this kind of thing stinks, any idiot can do it.

Also, I don't mind that you are seeking to make a few bob from your work for two reasons, first: for many years, you have distributed your aesthetic for free and have perhaps made your point as well as you can; second: your aesthetic is rare in the OSR - you imagine & write with originality and understanding.

The problem is that you expose yourself to winds of imbecility when you begin to consider what D&Ders want for D&D material because the average D&Der is a stupid needy hero-worshiper. This is exactly the reason never to publish material for money because you will end up devising foolish rubbish for example random tables.

I see the risks of commercialisation, and the way it can lead to "100 Fantastic Street Names"-style desperation and formulaic five-room lair dungeons, but fortunately, there is no pressing need for me to treat it as a source of livelihood.

However, I have always wanted to make something physical and handmade, and it was mostly out of convenience that I stuck to PDF (and fanzines). Nowadays, it is finally feasible to do small-scale print editions, then let latecomers pick up the PDF.

I also know a local printer who can handle the production, and we have already worked together on a bunch of projects - including a print module in 2003, and the world's sturdiest boxed set with Helvéczia. Coincidentally, he was also a playtester in our first Tegel Manor game, where he and his companions looted the Temple of Tsathoggus, drove the pirates from the seacoast, and Made Tegel Great Again, but never dared to go close to the manor proper. Not once.

Finally, I like random tables, some of my best friends are random tables, and I have written a supplement that's all random tables (the nocturnal companion to Mythmere's City Encounters, so far only published in the Hungarian). They are probably the hardest kind of support material to get right - even harder than monster books - but it can be done.

Can you explain the degree to which you modify D&D each time you begin a new campaign (or modify your own base version of D&D) ? Not the details but the reasoning, for example why not stick with one version with useful accretion.

In my view random tables are useful for complicated mundane natural processes (caverns) or for the selection of a wandering monster. But as they are typically used to generate ideas they are worthless because they are a substitute for thought and creativity and if you are not imaginative you won't be able to do anything interesting with your 'black snow' or 'farting grandfather clock'.

It is a weakness of the same kind as in DMs who rely on artwork by pointing at it to describe an environment to players but because they did not conceive the place themselves they cannot bring it to life effectively.

We usually just stick with Swords&Magic. The rules have been stable since 2006 with only minor refinements. It does most of the things we want out of D&D, and it is easy to pick up. Campaigns typically add minor changes like "no Clerics" or "humans only", but rarely anything radical.

There have been two major exceptions in recent years: Helvéczia is its own game, while for Xyntillan, we chose KéK mainly fora) its utter simplicity;b) its companion rules;c) and its well-developed dungeoneering procedures.

S&M is a flexible generalist D&Desque system; KéK is fine-tuned for OD&D-style dungeoneering. Before Xyntillan, I was using it to run Palace of the Silver Princess, with detours to Realm of the Walking Wet (where the PCs and their companions amazingly slew the sea monster of Loch Krake, but ended up running in terror from a wight).

Disagree on that point. Random tables are useful to come up with ideas or combinations that'd never occur naturally. They go where routine doesn't, and the surprises keep the mind fresh and exercised. What is the significance of black snow? What is a camel doing in a temperate forest? Why is that man selling dried tongues? Not a bad start for an adventure.

Mythmere was right when he wrote about "creativity aid, not creativity replacement". Random tables take a crucial step in the creative process, but there is a need to continue from there.

A bumbling step in introducing gonzo incoherence into your campaign more like. Mythmere was wrong because creative people don't need them. If it wasn't a worthless technique for creative types writers would use them.

Even utterly creative types like yours truly find it useful once in a while to juxtapose completely different elements and guess how they connect. Complete randomization is useless for generating all of the content, but an encounter or a bizarre adventure idea may stem from it.

Well Marvin, rather than I beat a dead horse, I will just say that **any** technique for the creation of ideas is something that is preliminary to creation, this seems self evident to me and random techniques are preliminary. So random tables are about as useful as the injunction to listen to Brian Eno soundscapes or a thousand other means.

Melan has reminded me of a dozen cliches about random tables I have heard for years and they remain a stilted limited technique entirely dependent on the DM to create. Except the tables have limitations but they are tiny finite sets.

Random tables should remain behind the curtain like any other means of creation. INSTEAD they are considered **something worth publishing** for which an OSR idiot **should be paid**. And the random table ethos infects published material which does not present them overtly but stinks of stupid incoherent worlds.

Random table material operates on the level of a cartoon watching six year old.

==There have been two major exceptions in recent years: Helvéczia is its own game.

What was your motivation for developing distinct gaming rules for the new campaign, and was it case of rules & campaign growing organically together or one attending on the other? Was it a desire for a fresh system to make outcomes less certain or because the campaign is peculiarly focused?

It turned into its own system almost overnight through the application of setting logic. Just like D&D is the product of a particular set of influences ('Appendix N', comic books, monster movies), Helvéczia is the product of another (picaresque novels, swashbuckling movies, local legends and the Grimm Brothers).

Identical basic concepts - classes, spells, alignment and even saving throws - take on a different form when viewed through this different lens.

==Just like D&D is the product of a particular set of influences ('Appendix N', comic books, monster movies), Helvéczia is the product of another (picaresque novels, swashbuckling movies, local legends and the Grimm Brothers).

Right, everyone who creates their own campaign does this. But have you devised new mechanics like for example MERP or Warhammer?

The original release went up to 3rd level; the new one (still in testing) goes to 6th. Otherwise, it is a distinctly Blue Book-style system, with some extras (e.g. the helmet rule originally published in Fight On!, etc.).